


and now i'm covered in the colours

by montecarlos



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, Assisted Suicide, Canon Compliant, Cheating, Child Abuse, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, References to Drugs, Romance, Self-Harm, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, fire mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-06 04:45:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13403751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: Aaron didn’t touch anyone if he could help it. He saw little point in covering himself in swirls of colour, bright marks hiding the scars that littered his body. He hated the very idea of it - that the slightest touch of someone who would mean something to you would make bright colours blossom over your skin.A journey through the colours left on Aaron's body.





	1. Aaron

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for all the positive feedback on my first fic, it was very much appreciated and I was thrilled by the response. I wrote this fic more or less in one sitting. I've written something similar before but I thought it was perfect for Aaron's story. This fic is very different in that it is an AU that follows canon to an extent but there are parts in which I've condensed the story to make it easier for the storyline to flow. I was thinking of doing a Robert sequel at some point too. Warnings for self harm and rape, but not too graphic. 
> 
> Title from Halsey's Colours.  
> Enjoy :)

**_Chas  
_ **  
  
Aaron didn’t touch anyone if he could help it. He saw little point in covering himself in swirls of colour, bright marks hiding the scars that littered his body. He hated the very idea of it - that the slightest touch of someone who would mean something to you would make bright colours blossom over your skin. He’s seen people covered head to toe in various splashes of colour - red swirling down their neck, blues curling around their wrists, yellows dancing down their ribcage. But he never wanted it, never craved the splashes of colour written over all his body.  
  
His mum’s dark pink was the first smear of colour across his pale skin when he was a newborn baby. It brushed along his side, near his shoulder where she had held him for the first time with love in her eyes. A constant in his life, Aaron’s fingers would find the bright mark, tracing the curve when he was alone, when she’d walked out, left Aaron with _him_ , with angry words, angry fists and other things that he buried deep down.  
  
“I love you,” She used to whisper, looking down at him with love in her eyes. The dark blue, almost black smudge on her cheek where he had reached out as a newborn remains on her face, a reminder of happier times, back when he was her entire world, before she realised that having a baby so young wasn’t what she wanted.  
  
He remembers tracing the mark of his mother when he was alone, remembering the story she used to tell him - that everyone had a special person, a person whose colour would be brighter than all the others. She always told the story with a degree of sadness in her eyes, glancing down at the white mark that belonged to Gordon curling around her wrist.  
  
It wasn’t until Aaron was much older that he realised that his mark was much brighter than Gordon’s.

* * *

  
**_Gordon  
_ **  
  
His mum’s bright mark, typical of the ones left by parents was the direct opposite of the one left by Gordon. Aaron couldn’t even fathom calling the man his father. It was faint - almost like a watercolour, barely visible on Aaron’s skin, curling next to his mother’s mark where Gordon had held him as a child.  
  
Aaron doesn’t remember much of his childhood - only slammed doors and shouting, remembers the tears falling down his cheeks when they used to argue. The day she left is burned bright into his mind - white hot pain - the wedding ring left on the table, the roar of her car as she’d peeled out of the driveway, leaving Gordon, leaving _him_ behind.  
  
The drink started shortly after that. At first, it was only a few bottles, but it soon became much more than that. Aaron remembers his breath, thick with alcohol, brushing against his neck. He buries the other memories. It had _hurt_ . He’d cried, he’d shouted, pleaded with him to stop.  
  
He told Aaron it was to keep him in line, that he had misbehaved.  
  
Aaron vowed to behave.  
  
“It’s our little secret, Aaron. You can’t tell your mum,”  
  
And he didn’t. She never noticed the bruises curling around his wrists where he’d been held down, never noticed the flinches when she touched him. Sometimes Aaron wondered if she ignored them on purpose.  
  
“You’ll be put into care if you told anyone,”  
  
So he kept quiet. He heard stories of children in care - unloved, locked up and no hope of a future. He didn’t want to be one of those children, so he buried it, pretended that Gordon wasn’t a monster that crept around in the dead of the night.  
  
He glances down at the white mark on his skin, razor in hand. It was ironic really - white being the colour of purity and goodness, when Gordon was anything but that. The bathroom door is locked and the only sound is that of his own ragged breathing. At first there’s pain, blood, heartache - but after that, sweet release. Two straight lines criss-cross over the faded mark.  
  
He’s nine years old.

* * *

  
**_Liv  
_ _  
_ ** _  
_ Gordon begins to lose interest when he’s ten and Aaron soon discovers why.  
  
“Aaron, this is Sandra,” He says, smiling widely at his son.  
  
Aaron is polite enough in the beginning. Sandra is a nice woman - she makes sure the house is clean and tidy, makes dinner, tries to make sure he doesn’t slope in late every night. Aaron is grateful for her in a way - Gordon isn’t interested in him anymore, she becomes the mother he never had, the mother he always wanted.  
  
But Aaron hates it sometimes - hates that she tries to control him. The nice facade soon fades away a few months down the line when she moves in with them.  
  
“Sandra’s pregnant,”  
  
And with those two innocuous words, Aaron’s world is blown apart once more. He wasn’t ever enough for his mum - but now he’s not enough for Gordon and Sandra. They’re having another child - a child isn’t damaged like him, a child who doesn’t spend his nights around the back of the local cricket club drinking cheap cider and smoking stolen cigarettes.  
  
It begins again. Gordon holds him down when Sandra is out at the hospital, having a check up. He’s told that he deserved it - for disappointing Sandra, for making her worry.  
  
As Sandra’s belly swells, Aaron spends more and more time away from home - it was never a _home_ to begin with, anything to get away from Gordon. He falls in with the wrong crowd, drinking, smoking, skipping school, vandalism, shoplifting, anything he can to dull the pain of his childhood memories. Sandra thinks that he’s just being a difficult child, that he misses his mum - if only she knew the truth.  
  
Olivia Livesy is born on 16th February 2002. She’s healthy and on time, with a shock of dark hair and a pink face. She squirms around in Sandra’s arms as Aaron approaches the bed tentatively.  
  
Aaron wants nothing more than to turn around on his heel and leave the happy family to their own devices, to head down to the cricket pitch with a bottle of cheap vodka and drink away his own thoughts. But Olivia’s tiny hand grasps onto his finger, a bright yellow mark blossoming over his pale skin.  
  
“You’re a big brother now, Aaron,” Gordon announces.  
  
“Yeah,” Aaron smiles, not at Gordon, but at the bright mark left on his skin, at the matching dark mark on Olivia’s tiny soft palm.  
  
But the happy family facade begins to crack over the years following that. Aaron grows into a teenager - a difficult teenager at that - his life spiralling into a combination of alcohol bottles, cigarettes and late nights. He ignores the dark circles under Sandra’s eyes, the pale skin, the slight shake of her hands as she waits for him to fall through the door every night.  
  
It all comes to a head when he’s 16. He doesn’t remember much of the night in question, his memory blurred by alcohol, just remembers the blood from Sandra’s lip, the scream from Liv, only six, still an innocent child, remembers his dad’s yells, the pain from his fists and ripped jeans when his knees hit the pavement outside.  
  
“You’re not welcome here, anymore,”  
  
He’d called his mum on his walk to the train station, slurred words and angry exchanges. She didn’t want him either. Aaron had traced the yellow mark wrapped around his finger, still as bright as ever. As the train pulled out of the station, he felt tears prick in his eyes.

* * *

  
**_Victoria  
_ **  
  
Life in Emmerdale is difficult at first - Aaron doesn’t know how to deal with his mum, resents her for leaving and not trying to be a part of his life. But she slowly makes her way back in - cooks him dinners that aren’t perfect but they’re something, throws the duvet over him when he comes in after a long night out, doesn’t yell at him like Gordon used to. It’s easy enough to play her.  
  
He meets Victoria through mutual friends. They clash at first - she’s a precocious fourteen year old which reminds him of Liv. She’s kind, beautiful and everything he needed - someone who loved him, who wasn’t disappointed in him. They skip school, end up at the cricket pavilion with a couple of cans of weak beer.  
  
Her lips are soft and warm against his own. Her hand brushes over his arm as she deepens the kiss, her breath light against his chapped lips. He forgets everything in that moment - it’s just _them_ \- a smile brushing against lips, the rustle of her school uniform. He’s never had that before - he’s kissed girls, but it’s always been with alcohol-tinged breath and swollen lips, forgotten memories in the morning. This is different.  
  
He doesn’t even realise the new mark on his arm until long after Andy Sugden wrenches him away from his little sister, spitting threats about what he’ll do if he sees them together again, his fingers brushing over the dark mark that Aaron had left on the side of her face.  
  
A soft lilac colour spreads over his skin where her fingers have been. It suits her.  
  
“You’re taking advantage of her!” Daz was just like his older brother, annoying, angry and a hell of a lip on him. Aaron remembers the blood, remembers the punch and the pain - memories of Gordon blooming up on the surface of his mind.  
  
Daz tells him to stay away. He doesn’t listen. They lose their virginity to one another and it’s soft, slow and loving. Aaron never thought sex would feel that way - not after everything with _him._ Victoria looks up at him afterwards through half lidded eyes, her hair mussed and he feels the smile brush over his face as he traces the bright dark mark smudged across the side of her face. Maybe this was what he was looking for.  
  
But it’s not Aaron Victoria wants. She shows up with a brighter mark curling around her wrist, a bright red that he knows is Daz’s, he’s seen the same one on Andy’s shoulder. She says it was a mistake, that she didn’t mean to hurt him - but the words trickle over his mind, unheard.  
  
She always had a thing for bad boys, he reasons, as he strokes over the lilac smear curling around his arm, burning bright against his pale skin.  
  
But he wasn’t enough, like he wasn’t enough for Gordon, or his mum, or Liv.

* * *

 

 **_Paddy  
_ ** _  
_ _  
_ His mum tries her best but it’s not enough. Aaron doesn’t have the discipline imposed on him by Gordon, doesn’t have to live with the constant fear of coming home late to anger, to fists and something more. He continues to drink heavily, to bunk off school and his mum lets him. They tiptoe around one another until his mum breaks. Angry words litter the air before Aaron finds himself running away from the village he never called home. Sandra and Gordon tell his mum everything, that he’d hit Sandra in a fit of anger, that he was never allowed to darken their doorway again. His mum is angry, upset, disappointed - she lashes out with her tongue instead of her fists but it still hurts.  
  
It doesn’t take long after that for the Dingles to discover his other secret - not the one about Gordon, he keeps that one well concealed - about the plastic bags that he hands over to customers, a crumpled note in his fist.  
  
They throw him and his mum out on the streets, even though Aaron insisted he didn’t use them, he was just a pawn in the McFarlane’s game, someone they could drop the blame on if needed. But they don’t listen, nobody ever does.  
  
“I want to go home,”  
  
“Love, we don’t have a-”  
  
“I want to go back to dad,” The word _dad_ feels bitter against his tongue, as does the concept of home - Gordon was never home to Aaron.  
  
But it doesn’t matter in the end. Gordon shuts the door in his face, tells him he never wants to deal with him again. Aaron’s heard it all before but the pale white mark still stings.  
  
Paddy is different though. He takes them in, gives Aaron a job and when Aaron pushes him away, he doesn’t yield, only clings tighter. Aaron thinks that sometimes Paddy can see deep down inside him, past the anger and the disappointment to the person he could be. He ignores the snipes about his character, about how he’s not right for his mum and never gives up on him.  
  
And eventually, Aaron softens.  
  
“Is that from our Aaron?” His mum exclaims one day at breakfast, her eyes fixed on the telltale dark blue-black mark of her son curling around Paddy’s hand.  
  
Paddy nods. If his mum notices the light blue mark swirling over his shoulder, she doesn’t say a word.  
_  
_

* * *

  
_**Adam**  
_  
  
If Victoria was his first love, Adam Barton surely was his second. He thought he loved Holly at first - she was sweet but sarcastic, all blonde hair and fruity perfume. But the mark she left on his body - rose gold - wasn’t as bright as the other marks on his body. He remembers undressing her in the barn, seeing the splatters of colour across her pale skin - like a kaleidoscope of bright memories marked all over her body.  
  
But he wasn’t one of them. He had hurt her, made her cry, but she still forgave him, her fingers brushing over the rose gold mark she had left on the back of his hand.  
  
He became friends with Adam - some sort of attempt by Moira to bring them closer together. At first, Adam was reluctant, unable to be too friendly with someone who wanted to get close to his sister, but he soon relented. They soon began to exist around each other and for the first time in his life, Aaron had someone his own age to talk to, to have fun with. At first, he thinks it’s normal - the way his heart flutters when he hears Adam’s laugh across the pub, when Adam smiles at him.  
  
But it all changes on a dark December evening on a country lane on the way to Hotten, alcohol still sitting on their tongues. Aaron remembers the crunch of metal, Adam’s hand grabbing the wheel away, the car screeching to a halt.  
  
And then warm hands brushing against the back of his neck, against his short hair.  
  
“Mate, you alright?” The touch feels like fire.  
  
“Get off,” It’s subconscious. He doesn’t want to know how bright the mark is, doesn’t want to consider the fact it’s brighter than Holly’s.  
  
“You’re bleeding...let me have a look,”  
  
And Adam pulls him in, his sleeve coarse against the warm blood above Aaron’s eyebrow.

“Does it hurt?”  
  
Aaron nods and nearly loses himself, leaning into the warm touch. But before their lips can meet, Adam stiffens, his face wrought with confusion.  
  
“What do you think you’re doing?”  
  
Aaron does what he always does after that. He lies, pretends he never wanted to kiss Adam and it’s Holly that he wants. He sleeps with her after that, his fingers tracing over the mark that he left on her neck, dark against the alabaster of her skin, tries to forget about Adam.  
  
But he can’t forget about the obnoxiously bright orange smear across the back of his neck. And in the end, neither can Holly.  
  
“I’m fine with you being gay,” Adam stares at him and Aaron can see the dark mark he’s left on his best friend - on the guy he thinks he’s in love with, dancing across his fingers. “But don’t use my sister as a cover, she deserves me than that,”  
  
“I’m not gay,” Aaron bites out. But he’s not sure if he’s convincing Adam or himself.

* * *

 **  
_Jackson  
_ **  
  
Aaron doesn’t know how he finds himself in a gay bar - maybe it’s his way of teaching himself that this isn’t him, this isn’t what he wants. But he meets dark brown eyes and everything changes. Jackson is everything he isn’t and it terrifies him.  
  
So he does what he always does. He runs away before Jackson can touch him, before the colour can bloom deep on his skin. It’s easier that way. But Jackson was harder to shake off than he expected. His phone, left in the bar, is returned to Paddy the next morning with a new number added to its contacts.  
  
Jackson invites him out for a drink, but Aaron remembers the questioning glance that Paddy sent him, remembers the look of confusion and disgust on Adam’s face when he leaned in to kiss him and decides to stay in that night. His skin burns, as though a fresh mark should have been embedded into his skin, but he ignores it and rolls over, sleeping overtaking him.  
  
But Jackson is charming and persistent and Aaron can’t stop thinking about him. He finds himself having a drink with Jackson, smiling, laughing at his jokes. At the end of the night, Jackson leans in with questioning eyes. It’s nothing like Adam - this time, it’s slow, steady and there’s a smile on Jackson’s lips as he grasps the side of Aaron’s face and moves in to kiss him slowly. It only lasts for a moment but it feels like a lifetime. Warmth blossoms up through Aaron’s abdomen at the contact, the sensation of Jackson’s thumb against his neck and it feels right. He feels _whole_ .  
  
Until Jackson pulls away. Ice suddenly floods Aaron’s chest. What had he done?  
  
It would be easy to pretend nothing happened if it weren’t for the smear of grey spreading out over the side of his face. And Jackson won’t let it go - even when Aaron’s fist meets his face, exploding into a burst of dark blue and black against his cheek.  
  
He can’t deal with it. He can’t even bring himself to admit what _it_ is. He can’t pretend anymore to be something he isn’t. So he decides to take the other option - destroy what _he_ is.  
  
It’s easy to make sure the garage is empty - he works there after all, and to make sure that there’s a full tank of petrol in the car. It’s easy to turn the key in the ignition and wait. The air begins to feel heavy and thick and the only sound is the rattle of the engine and that of his ragged breathing.  
  
After that, everything goes black.  
  
He fails. He wakes up in a hospital bed with his mum’s face hovering over him, mascara smearing down her cheeks.  
  
“Why?” She asks.  
  
It would be easy to tell her a lie but he doesn’t.  
  
“I’m gay,”  
  
Jackson comes back into his life after that, drops the charges and they begin dating. Jackson is out, he’s proud, he’s happy and he’s everything to Aaron. They make love one night for the first time, lips brushing against one another, bodies moving as one. Aaron traces the numerous swirls of colour over Jackson’s body in the dim light of the bedroom. Jackson tells him they mean nothing and for the first time in his life, Aaron believes him.

They’re happy for a while, until they aren’t. Until Jackson utters three words that drop on Aaron’s heart like a stone. 

“I love you,”  
  
Aaron can’t say it back. The words get tangled in his mouth as he watches Jackson stride over to his car, the door slamming shut.  
  
The phone rings and rings, but there’s no answer.  
  
“Jackson’s been in an accident…” He feels the breath leave his lungs.  
  
He remembers little of that night, of waiting on the uncomfortable chair at the hospital. He’s told of what happened - train accident, intensive care, critical condition - his hands dragging over Jackson’s light grey mark. He can’t lose him, not now - not the person whose mark burns the brightest on Aaron’s skin.  
  
Jackson looks peaceful, like he’s sleeping. His body is still, his eyes are closed, the only colour on his body is that of Aaron’s mark, still bright against his cheek.  
  
“He’ll be okay, he’s strong,” Hazel whispers in a soothing voice.  
  
But Jackson isn’t _fine_ . He will never walk again and Aaron is the one who has to tell him, tears falling down his cheeks as Jackson lashes out. Jackson tells him they’re over, that it’s all Aaron’s fault that he’s like this. And it _hurts_ . He wants to take a blade to his skin, his method to release all the emotions, all the anger, all the hatred - because he realises he _loves_ Jackson.  
  
So he tells him. Jackson’s eyes soften at his words and Aaron gets another chance at start again, another roll of the dice. He traces his fingers over the dark mark curling over Jackson’s cheek.  
  
“I love you,” He whispers.  
  
But Aaron’s love isn’t enough for Jackson. He’s stuck in a body that will never work again, trapped forever in the same position with no chance of independence. He keeps telling Aaron to leave him, that it’s not fair to keep him chained to someone who he can’t even make love to. But Aaron refuses to leave him. He tries to make Jackson see that life is worth living, that he has to hold on - but the chest infection gives Jackson another perspective.  
  
“I want to die,”  
  
Aaron crumbles at the words, tears falling thick and heavy down his cheeks.  
  
He and Hazel try to make Jackson change his mind, but Jackson being the person he is, the person that Aaron fell in love with, doesn’t budge on his decision.  
  
The pills and the glass. Aaron never thought that two innocent looking objects could destroy his entire life. But they do. He feels the tears brushing down his cheeks, feels the sobs rip in his throat as his shaking fingers dip the rim of the glass against Jackson’s chapped lips.  
  
His fingers brush over the dark blue-black mark on his lover’s cheek as Jackson’s eyes fall closed for the final time.  
  
“I’m sorry,” He whispers between sobs, the glass falling from his hand.

* * *

  
**_Robert  
_ **  
  
He falls apart after Jackson. It was to be expected - he’s lost the love of his life. The courts blame him, brand him a _murderer_ . He knows he isn’t, but it doesn’t stop him thinking he’s his fault that Jackson was even like _that_ in the first place. He turns to his razor for comfort, turns to violence and lashing out. It’s easier to push people away. People who care about him only end up like Jackson.  
  
Ed is the first one who tries to break down Aaron’s walls after Jackson. It’s easy to push him away, to show him that he’s not worthy of love. But Ed is like Jackson in that aspect. He keeps pushing, keeps chipping away at Aaron’s walls until they crumble away.  
  
When Ed invites him to France, Aaron doesn’t hesitate to take the offer. He has to get away from Emmerdale, away from the hurt and the pain, away from Jackson’s grave. His heart aches as he watches the cottage disappear in the mirror, but he glances at Ed and smiles, knows he’s made the right decision.  
  
But it isn’t the right decision. Ed tires of living in Jackson’s shadow, of his mark not burning as bright as Jackson’s against Aaron’s skin, and Aaron finds himself back in Emmerdale, back in the place he once called home.  
  
He keeps his head down at first - he has to for the sake of his suspended sentence, but sticking to the rules soon begins to bore Aaron. He isn’t sure when he gets involved with Ross Barton of all people - but stealing cars gives him a thrill, a new feeling that buries his despair of losing Jackson, of losing Ed.  
  
“Never rely on the manufacturer’s tracker,” The voice is cocky, self-assured. Aaron looks up and finds himself looking at Robert Sugden - Vic’s long lost brother, the one who had been driven from the village many years ago. He’s grown into himself since then - floppy blonde hair, a chiselled jaw and the everpresent leather jacket clinging to his lithe frame.  
  
Robert is _interesting_ . Robert is also _engaged_ \- Chrissie’s golden mark curls over his wrist like a warning beacon, warning people to stay away. Maybe that was her intention, but it doesn’t stop _Robert_ doing what he likes.  
  
“I’m not messing you around,” The words are almost soft, almost uncertain.  
  
There’s inches between them and Robert’s eyes keep flickering down to his lips. Aaron tires of the hesitation and turns on his heel to walk away, ignoring the way his heart is slamming against his ribcage.  
  
A hand curls around his arm and he suddenly feels warm lips against his own, Robert’s hand curling over his neck. Everything seems to stop in that moment. It feels _right_ . He grasps at Robert’s leather jacket as the blonde man’s tongue brushes over the crease of his lips, deepening the kiss. Warmth curls over his stomach, up over his neck where Robert’s hand is still resting.  
  
But as his hands move to push Robert’s jacket away from his shoulder, Robert stiffens and wrenches away. Aaron sees himself in Robert in that moment - a frightened teenager who did not understand his own feelings. Robert’s eyes flicker over Aaron’s neck and widen for a moment before he’s turning around, leaving Aaron and his feelings behind.  
  
It’s not until Aaron gets home that he finds the mark Robert left behind - the dark bordeaux red stands out brighter than any of his other marks.  
  
He tries to stay away from Robert, ignores his mum’s questions about the new mark curling around his neck. But Robert doesn’t relent. He turns up at the garage with his eyes falling on the mark on Aaron’s pale skin and Aaron’s resolve crumbles as their lips meet again.  
  
They fuck in the car. It’s uncomfortable and difficult but neither of them care in that moment. Robert smiles up at him, all mussed hair and pale skin, and Aaron feels himself fall. He notices the familiar smear of blue-black on the back of Robert’s neck as the blonde pulls his t-shirt on.  
  
Robert tells him it was nothing, that it was a one night stand. He ignores the mark on his neck, ignores how it’s brighter than the one left by Chrissie. But his words mean to nothing, became nothing more than pieces of paper blowing in the wind. They find themselves back together, lips brushing against each other, Aaron’s hand held against the mark he’s left on Robert’s neck. And so it carries on, as the leaves begin to grow on the trees and Aaron’s heart begins to grow again with love.  
  
Katie finds out. It’s only a matter of time before somebody did. But she is silenced before she can speak. Aaron finds Robert looking tearful, his hand on the mark she left all those years ago, the light pastel yellow curving over his hand. It still burns, Aaron knows it does, because Jackson’s mark still aches every now and then. But he still marries _her_ as Katie lays dead in the barn, her hand curling over the gold mark as it shines in the bright lights.  
  
Robert had told him that it would be over when he got married, but the words meant nothing. He tumbles back into bed with Aaron - it’s angry and it’s full of hurt but it means _everything_ .  
  
“I love you,” The words mean everything and _nothing_ . Aaron stares at him with tear filled eyes. Robert loves him. _Robert loves him_ .  
  
But it does nothing to help Aaron tumbling down into the rabbit hole though. Aaron blames himself for Katie, he was the one who told her to go, the one who left Robert with her. So he punishes himself. The razor is comforting against his skin, against Gordon’s faded mark. But it’s not enough, so he pushes himself further - takes up running. It’s a way to snatch back control from his demons. So he runs faster, further - until he can’t anymore. Until he tumbles down into the mud, pain ripping through his ankle.  
  
He’s not sure how long he’s there for, but he wakes up to find Robert with a concerned face peeling his coat away from his body to wrap around his body. He didn’t even realise he was cold.  
  
“I’m not going anywhere,” Robert whispers, almost fondly.  
  
And Aaron believes him.  
  
Aaron wakes up without Robert, pain flooding through his body. His mum and Paddy stand by the side of his bed, all stoic. They are disappointed - of course they are - tell him that he should stay away from Robert, that he’s nothing but trouble, that he doesn’t care about Aaron.  
  
“He’s the one that kept me going,” Aaron finds the words pulling from his lips.  
  
And his mum and Paddy go quiet, questions in their eyes, glancing at the mark still brighter than ever on his pale skin. The part of Robert that will never go away. They know - they’ve known since he blurted out that he was with Robert on the day Katie died.  
  
The guilt over Katie doesn’t go away - even when Chrissie finds out about Robert’s robbery plan and throws him out, when Aaron begs her to take the man he loves back, when Cain finds out about their affair. It’s broken in the layby - the same one where they kissed - where Robert admits everything. He says that it was an accident, that he didn’t mean to do it. Aaron remembers pain blossoming across his knuckles and his heart.  
  
His plot to get Robert to confess on record goes terribly wrong. He pushes Robert away, ignores the hurt in the blue-green eyes and the anger twists in his chest. Robert tells him again it was an accident, his hand moving to brush over the red mark still emblazoned across his skin but Aaron shoves him away. They struggle, hands hurting instead of soothing before there’s the crack of a bottle and everything goes black.  
  
He wakes up to Robert holding a gun, blood trickling down the side of his head, merging with the bordeaux red of Robert’s mark. He tells Robert to kill him, his voice snarling, his eyes filled with hate.  
  
“I love you!” The gun wavers. “I know about the mark you left on me, Aaron. I know it’s the brightest one I’ve ever had, I know what that means-”  
  
“It means nothing, Robert,” Aaron snarls.  
  
He shoots Paddy. The man who is like a second father to Aaron, the man who never let Aaron down, slumps down on the couch in a pool of blood. The gun wavers again as Robert falls to the floor, broken.  
  
Paddy’s okay. He somehow manages to persuade Robert to sew him up, to release him and Aaron on the basis that they will keep quiet. But Aaron has no intention of that. He finds himself in the kitchen of Home Farm with a confused Chrissie and an angry Robert.

“He was with _me_ ,” He spits and the realisation and upset spreads across Chrissie’s face. He knows that he’s had her suspicions about the mark he left on Robert’s neck, the mark Robert left is still bright against his own skin.  
  
“Think about it, Chrissie. Look at how much brighter his mark is than the one on your skin,” His mark burns white-hot but he ignores it - he needed Robert to pay for what he’d done, to avenge Katie lying in the barn dead and to protect Paddy, left for dead, not once but twice. It was worth it, he reasons.  
  
Chrissie throws Robert out but not before she tells the entire village the reason for the breakdown of their marriage. Aaron expects it to end there, but it doesn’t. Andy won’t stop digging for answers, searching for a reason why his wife ended up dead. He almost gets caught - why didn’t he dispose of his phone sooner? Stupid, stupid - and leaves the village, anything to get away from the mess that is now his life.  
  
But when he returns, the mess is still there and it looms large over the village like a stormcloud. Andy knows Aaron was there, knows that Robert has something to do with it. Aaron spins him a lie about Katie leaving, it breaks his heart as Andy’s hand brushes over the mark that Katie had left on him, the pastel yellow still as bright as ever. But he does it for Robert. Even now, he can’t see the man he loves go down for it.  
  
But Robert doesn’t see it that way. He storms back into the scrapyard fresh from police questioning and rips Aaron to shreds. Aaron takes it, every last shred of Robert’s anger until he mentions Jackson. Aaron feels the anger build up inside him as his hands brush over the mark that Jackson left, the only thing he has left of him.  
  
“You won’t ever speak to me like that again,” He hisses, staring at the man he once loved - still loves deep down.  
  
Robert gets shot later that evening. Aaron feels the tears fall down his cheeks as he stands next to his mum, her breaths heaving through the thick winter air. The blood is warm against Aaron’s fingers as is the gun that he finds in the barn, the gun that he’s sure his own mother fired to keep Robert away from him.  
  
Although he tries to hide the gun, it’s a secret - and secrets don’t stay hidden for long. He feels the cold steel of the handcuffs slide over his wrists before he’s lead away to the police car. He tries not to think about Robert lying in the hospital bed, still dancing dangerously close to death. If his hand brushes against his mark, he pretends it doesn’t.  
  
Aaron doesn’t know that Robert has woken up, he doesn’t know that they tell him that Aaron shot him. He doesn’t see Robert’s hand brushing over the back of his neck. He knows evidence doesn’t lie. They found the gun - Aaron’s fingerprints all over it, everything points to him. But he didn’t do it. He stands up in court and tells the jury he’s innocent, that he was protecting his mother, only to find himself staring at the narrowed blue-green eyes of Robert. He goads Aaron, winds him up into a tight coil until Aaron explodes.  
  
“You should have done everyone a favour and stayed dead!” He snarls.  
  
The courtroom goes silent and Vic grabs hold of Robert’s arm, tugging him away through the double doors. Aaron slumps back into the bench, panic threading through his chest. He’s ruined everything.  
  
But Robert seems to grow a spine. He gives another statement and Aaron is suddenly free from the chains. He doesn’t thank Robert though. He tells him that he’s had enough of him messing with his head, that he hates him and nothing will ever change that. He tries to ignore the hurt that spreads across Robert’s face, the ache from the mark on his neck, but as always, Robert is hard to ignore.  
  
Gordon walks back into his life like nothing ever happened. Sandra and Liv are a distant memory for him now, she tired of him like Gordon tired of him. It’s easy for Gordon to get back in, to slip back under his mum’s skin - she’s struggling, she’s ill, PTSD rendering her a shadow of what she used to be, a bloodied knife plunged into a lifeless Diane. This time, the razor isn’t enough. Gordon digs his claws in deeper and Aaron knows he has to run. The razor stings as it catches on his skin, as he scrawls down on a piece of paper, droplets of blood falling onto the white sheet. He hopes his mum will understand.  
  
But Robert catches him before he can escape, tells him that running away doesn’t solve anything. Aaron doesn’t have the strength to argue. He can feel the blood running down his arm, brushing over Liv’s yellow mark and then he feels nothing. He comes to in the hospital, the sounds all amplifying the headache swirling around in his brain. Robert is there next to him, warm, stable, worried. Warm hands brush over his shoulders, lifting him into the wheelchair. He knows it’s now or never, it’s time to tell someone what Gordon did. He barely remembers what he says, but he does remember Robert’s face dropping before he’s wheeled away.  
  
He tries to run away again. Robert finds out about the scars on his chest, won’t drop the subject of Gordon. Eventually, everything pours out of Aaron, all the hurt and agony drops from his chest.  
  
“My dad raped me,”  
  
Robert listens to him, traces the white lines that cross over the faded mark that belonged to Gordon with his finger as Aaron tells him how it all began, how he never wanted his innocence ripped away. Aaron cries, feels the pain dig deep in his chest, further than any razor or knife or flame ever could. Robert is calm, comforting, his eyes are full of agony. But all Aaron can think about is the hurt, the pain, why Robert would want someone so damaged like him.  
  
But Robert tells him he loves him - even now, even after everything they’ve been through together. Robert strokes the bordeaux mark on his cheek as he tells him that he should tell his mum, but Aaron thinks about their relationship of late, hanging on by a thread. He can’t do that to her, it would break her knowing that she left him in the hands of a monster.  
  
It gets worse before it gets better. Robert confronts Gordon - but the lies slip from the man’s tongue and Robert believes them for a moment. But he takes one look into Aaron’s eyes and everything melts away as he sees before him the person Aaron used to be, the terrified little boy who needed his dad, who was used in the worst way.  
  
He eventually tells his mum - cracks when she makes a passing comment about fish and chips, the food of forgiveness in Gordon’s eyes. He watches the tears fall from her eyes, down over the mark he left on her skin, strong as ever. Her hand moves to brush over her own mark left on his arm, almost in comfort, trying to push forth her love for him as she whispers how sorry she is for doing it to him, for leaving him, for pushing him towards the monster of Gordon.  
  
He admits everything to her at first in a fit of anger, bruises mottling on her skin where he pushed her up against the wall. But when the handcuffs grip Gordon’s wrists, he changes his story and denies everything. He drags Liv into it - no longer a girl of six, but a teenager who thinks that their father is the sun. But she comes through for him in the end. Gordon calls Aaron a liar, he finds it scratched into his car, says everything is just a fabrication made up by the son who hates him. But the jury don’t see it that way, they see past the failed attempts of securing another witness, through Gordon’s lies to Liv promising her of better things - they see the photo of the little boy held up by the barrister and through every lie that tumbles from his lips.  
  
Guilty. 18 years.  
  
It should feel like a victory. It does in a way.  
  
Robert’s hands curls around his shoulder. Aaron thinks about what he said in court - about being a good person, a good person to be with. He can’t forget what Gordon did - it will be burned into his memory forever, carried with him until he’s old. But he can try to move on. He finds his mark on the back of Robert’s neck, just smudged by the collar of his leather jacket, still as bright as ever and his fingers trace over it. Warmth curves in his chest at the sensation.   
  
He glances down to the different colours brushing over his skin, all the people he's let into his life as Robert smiles at him, his hand moving to curl over the mark on Aaron’s face, his fingers resting where they did all those years ago and for the first time, Aaron feels hope for the future.


	2. Robert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I wrote the Aaron version, I thought I needed to complete it with the other half of Robron - so I decided to write Robert's story of the marks that are on his body. I've taken a little artistic licence here and there with the name of the farmhand and how Robert met Chrissie. Another massive thank you to everyone who has read, commented and liked my fics, it really means alot to know you guys are enjoying my stories as much as I am enjoying writing them. 
> 
> Warnings for the rape reveal and for emotional abuse. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

_**Pat  
** _   
  
Robert doesn’t remember his mum. He likes to think he remembers flashes of her - of her smile, of her laugh and her soft voice as she leaned over his crib but he thinks that it’s just his way of filling in the gaps of where she should be. He died when he was young - too young, they always said with sorrow and pity in their eyes. The only thing he has left of her are photographs - old, blurry ones, too saturated, a moment in time too fleeting to remember, and the mark that she left on his face. Hers was the first mark that blossomed against his skin - bright as a mother’s mark should be. She was light blue against pale skin. His father tells him that blue means trust, calm and loyalty, that Pat was all of those things.   
  
She loved Robert with all of her heart, he says. The words seem to pacify Robert for a moment - but he’s young, he’s curious and he doesn’t understand. If she loved him, why did she leave?   
  
The words hangs in the air, unanswered.  


* * *

  
**_Jack + Jackie + Sandie_  
** **  
** ****

**  
** Jackie and Sandie are equally fuzzy memories in Robert’s mind, kept alive only through photographs and the marks they left on his skin. He doesn’t remember much of his elder siblings - remembers Jackie bopping him up and down on his knee, remembers Sandie feeding him some bright orange mush passed off as baby food. Sometimes he looks down at the marks they left on him - Sandie’s light pink curling around his palm and Jackie’s rusty red (red, like the colour of his blood when the gun went off, when he staggered through the woods, hands, red, red, red) stark against his jawline where he had pushed the blankets down - and wonders where his marks had appeared on their bodies. He finds himself looking at old photos of his family, finding the marks they had given one another twisting over pale skin. They’re always smiling in the photographs. It’s a stark contrast to the reality.   
  
His father never smiles anymore.

Jack’s mark - the colour of the wheat in the fields and the hay in the barn - is bright at first against Robert’s arm, where he’d held his son for the very first time, and with good reason. They were happy at first - Jack, Pat, Jackie, Sandie and Robert - a tight family unit. But the cracks began to appear after Pat’s car veered uncontrollably off the country road, as she took her last breath and Jack’s mark began to fade against Robert’s pale skin. He pretends not to notice, tries to hide it under baggy shirts. But it only gets worse when he’s told that Jackie is dead - Robert’s bordeaux red mark curling around the hand that tried to stop the bleeding.   
  
It’s barely existent when Sandie moves up to Scotland, saturated and watery, like the tears that fall from his eyes. It’s hard to be alone.   


* * *

  
**_Sarah_  
  
**   
  
Robert remembers the first time he met Sarah. He was barely two and a half, a child with sharp edges and loss following him at every turn - but Sarah saw through that. She smiles at him, it’s wide and genuine and warm, everything he never had, everything that was snatched away from him when he was too young to remember.   
  
There’s a fistful of memories of his mum tucked up in his mind somewhere. And Sarah never lets him forget them - she embraces them, with warmth, with a smile, with the scent of lingering honeysuckle perfume. She is the one who kisses his grazed knee, who reads him bedtime stories, the one who kisses him goodnight. With her warmth, comes acceptance. He remembers the day he ran over to his dad showcasing off his new mark courtesy of Sarah - his _mum_ \- a beautiful peacock blue curling over the side of his face where her fingers had brushed. She bears Robert’s bordeaux red proudly on her nose.   
  
It’s in that moment she stops being Sarah and becomes _mum_ .   
  
“Why did you let him put it there?” His father asks, barely looking up from his newspaper.   
  
“Because he wanted to put it where he could see it,” His mum laughs, a smile on her face.   
  
They argue about it later on when Robert is tucked up amongst his blankets. He pretends not to hear. He curls up under his blankets, his fingers slowly moving over her bright mark as he wonders if she regrets it.   
  
But she doesn’t. The bedtime stories continue, they both end up curled up under the blankets reading _George’s Marvellous Medicine_ until Robert falls asleep against the crook of her shoulder, his hands fisting into her dressing gown as though he can’t let her go.   
  
He’s seven when he notices the change. At first, it’s subtle - his father not letting his mum work around the farm as much, the talk of something new and exciting. He wonders what it is - what could excite his parents so much, even Grandma Annie and Uncle Joe seem excited about the news. It isn’t until a few months later that he notices her stomach begin to grow and his father talks about a nursery.   
  
Robert knows what that means. It’s supposed to be a good thing - some of his friends have baby brothers and sisters. They tell him that although they’re annoying sometimes, it’s good to have someone to play with, someone they’re connected to by blood. But Robert doesn’t feel that way. He thinks only of the family unit - his dad, his mum and his unborn brother or sister. He tries to figure out where he fits in everything - disjointed, outcast, alone.   
  
She notices. She’s bound to - she’s his _mum_ , she knows him better than anyone. Her hands are warm from the cup of tea she’s been holding, soft against his own skin.   
  
“We’re not going to forget about you, you know,” She says softly.   
  
Robert opens his mouth to disagree but she shakes her head. “I know that it’s not been easy for you. But I’m not going to stop being your mum, Robert,”   
  
Robert feels the tears prick up in the corners of his eyes. She knows. She _understands_ . He glances at her swollen stomach, her t-shirt pulling taut against the bump. “You promise?” He asks, lifting his hand to hers, pinky finger outstretched.   
  
“I promise,” She says, smiling as her finger finds his.   
  
And she keeps her promise.  


* * *

  
**_Victoria  
  
_ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** Victoria is born a few months after the plane crash - a life replacing all the death and destruction lingering in the ruins of Beckindale Village. It’s been reborn as Emmerdale, as new and untouched as the newest member of the Sugden family wrapped up tightly in her blankets. She manages to wake Grandma Annie from her coma, blue eyes snapping open at the sound of her granddaughter’s cries.   
  
Robert thinks he’ll hate her. But he takes one look at her and his heart softens. This is his _little sister_ \- and he’ll protect her at all costs. She gurgles, glancing up at him with eyes, so much like his own, her hand moves out to curl around his finger. He watches her carefully, watches the red he knows so well curl around her tiny palm.   
  
“You’re a big brother,” His mum whispers proudly and Robert looks down at the lilac mark spreading around his fingers, a smile brushing against his face.   
  
A big brother. He can be that.   
  
And he is. He takes her into his arms when she cries and sings gently to her until she quietens, he spoons the mush into her mouth as Jackie did to him all those years before. Victoria makes him feel less alone but there are times that he wishes he had a brother. He had Jackie - but he barely remembers him, he was a baby when his brother was a young man.   
  
He wants to have someone his own age, someone to chase away the loneliness.  


* * *

  
**_Andy  
  
_ **   
  
A dirty, mud-covered hand meets another.   
  
“Robert Sugden,”   
  
“Andy Hopwood,”   
  
Andy’s mark is a similar colour to Robert’s. Red on red blossoming over their dirty palms. And from that day, they stop being two separate people and become _Robert and Andy_ .   
  
Andy is broken, just like Robert is - his life is worse even, devoid of happiness and stability. They begin to fix one another - plastering over open wounds with childhood memories. But it’s enough for them both. They talk about the loss of their mothers in the barn late one evening, Robert forgetting all about his promises to his mum about coming home for dinner. He remembers traipsing in at some point, eyes on the floor as his mum looks on in disappointment. The sting of his father’s belt hurts - but it’s worth it, worth it to not feel so alone.   
  
He knows he shouldn’t go back to Andy - his father says he’s a bad influence. But his desire to have someone who understands makes the pain inflicted by the belt fade away. He makes Robert happy. His family begin to see that. They begin to see Andy as Robert sees him - as a member of the family. His parents adopt Andy when they’re thirteen. It’s a legality of sorts as Robert already sees him as a brother.   
  
The happiness of having Andy join the family soon fades away as their parents find themselves on hard times. Robert remembers sitting on the stairwell with Andy, listening to their father talk about how hard it is to make a living, trying to work through the mountains of bills, of money that doesn’t exist. They’re both old enough to know what it all means. The arguments are long, stretched out, harsh words settling over the farmhouse. They manage to push their father into the arms of another. He says Rachel doesn’t mean anything to him - but her mark, a dark and obnoxious pink, says otherwise. She leaves their lives - but not by choice, pushed to her death by Graham. He catches his father’s fingers stroking over the mark, the only thing he has left of her.   
  
It’s the beginning of the end. They try to paper over the cracks, but every hole that is filled sends more cracks through their already fragile marriage. Richie’s arrival is like a death knell. Robert sees the expression in her eyes, sees the way that she looks at him. He gives her the attention that she has craved from his father, that he took for granted - and it doesn’t take long for her to fall into his arms. His father sees the mark left by Richie, spreading out bright against her collarbone and he explodes. Robert remembers holding Victoria as she cries against his shirt, tiny hands fisted into the material. She doesn’t understand any of it - doesn’t understand why her father is angry about mum and Richie being friends. Robert wishes it were that simple.   
  
His parent’s marriage isn’t the only thing to crumble under the accusations. Andy sides with their father and Robert supports his mother. He ignores the sneers from his brother and father about how she isn’t his real mum, thinks about all the times she supported him, sat patiently with him as he did his homework, talked about his future. He and Andy dissolve into arguments, into indifference and Robert hates it, the feeling of loneliness curling around his chest. But you have mum, he tells himself late at night, trying to ignore the arguments, the raised voices.   
  
Until he doesn’t. Until that fateful night in November. She wasn’t even supposed to be in that barn - but she was. She was trapped in there whilst Andy stood outside with petrol-covered fingers, heat burning into her skin, smoke filling her airways. He remembers seeing Richie outside, his face blackened from smoke, croaking out that Sarah was trapped, that she needed help. His father ran towards the barn but it was too late. An explosion ripped through the building and subsequently, through Robert’s heart.   
  
She was gone, killed in the most horrific way. Something dies inside him that night. He tries to bury it, the feelings she went through in her last moments, tries to cling to his memories of her. His fingers stroke over her mark, he still remembers her screams. It hurts.   
  
But not as much as the loneliness curling in his chest.  


* * *

  
**_Will the Farmhand  
  
_ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** He reluctantly returns to his father’s house a few months later, the barn is still gutted and black, still holds the screams of the night Robert wants to forget. It’s hard - his father pays him no attention, choosing to focus on his energy on grooming Andy into the perfect farmer. Victoria is too young to understand, still drawing pictures with crayons of their happy family, not knowing the reality of what has happened.   
  
Will arrives in the spring months to help his father with the lamb season. At first, Robert is indifferent to the older boy as he laughs and jokes with Andy and his father, when he traipses into the kitchen in the afternoon with muddied boots for a cup of tea. But over time, things begin to change and Robert begins to see the older boy in a different light. Robert finds himself daydreaming about wind ruffled curls, about full lips and sparkling blue eyes.   
  
He walks in on Will on one April morning, his bare back turned away from Robert as he tosses hay bales into one of the barns. Robert feels his mouth go dry at the subtle shift of the muscles under the lightly tanned skin, at the freckles that blossom over Will’s back. He doesn’t understand at first - why his heart flutters and warmth curls in his lower abdomen like it did when he saw Sophie in Year 8 with her soft blonde hair and full lips. Will spins around and catches Robert’s eye, smiling widely at the fifteen year old.   
  
Robert fells his cheeks burn red at the sight of Will’s muscled chest, mutters out an apology and runs from the barn. He ignores the tingling sensation in his fingers, ignores the thoughts of kissing Will - he’s not gay, he can’t _be gay_. His father would never accept that, he’d never understand. He barely understands why Robert wants to spend time working on his school books rather than on the farm. So he tries to bury it, tries to push Will away and slip under a mask of indifference.   
  
But Will keeps himself in Robert’s orbit, keeps seeking him out, the pair of them are kindred spirits, both outcasts, both never fitting where they are supposed to. Robert lets him in. He knows he shouldn’t, but Will pulls away the veil of loneliness, he sits and listens to Robert talk about his mum, about his life on the farm. Robert pours everything out and Will listens, head slightly cocked, blue eyes fixed on the teenager. His hand moves to gently wrap around Robert’s as though in comfort and Robert feels something shift in his chest as he watches the colour blossom over his pale skin. A forest green, darker than his father’s mark, than Andy’s fading mark. He’s no longer afraid of the consequences, of hate filled eyes and of angry words.   
  
Robert isn’t sure how they end up in his bedroom. They both curl up on the tiny bed, Will pillowing his head with his arm as he looks down at Robert, a gentle smile playing along his lips. Robert can see the tiny scar on Will’s cheek, the flecks of gold in his azure eyes and the way his mouth upturns ever so slightly when he smiles. He can feel his heart slamming against his ribcage as he feels Will’s breath against his cheek.   
  
The kiss is heated, full of teeth and feelings. It’s not soft like the kisses from the girls. Will’s lips are slightly chapped, but warm - as are his hands as they rove over Robert’s body, exploring every inch of the teenager. Robert gasps as he feels the callouses brush under the thin fabric of his jumper, warmth still curling in his gut. He’s never felt like this before - used to a soft body, soft lips against his own, but he can feel Will’s muscles pressing against him, the swell of his erection knocking against his thigh as they kiss. Will’s hands move to slowly pull Robert’s jumper over his head, the cool air making the teenager gasp against the farmhand’s lips. But Will just smiles, pulls off his own threadbare t-shirt and presses their lips together again.   
  
However, as quickly as it begins, it’s over. Heat is wrenched away and Robert sees the angry, red face of his father, purple veins standing out on his forehead, blue eyes so much like his own, filled with hate.   
  
“Dad-” He whispers, hands curling around his shirt to press it against his naked torso, as though to protect. “Dad, I-”   
  
“Get out,” His father snarls at Will. The older boy hesitates for a moment, face pale as he snatches up his shirt.   
  
“Don’t be too hard on him, it’s not his fault-” Will begins, his lip caught between his teeth. He’s silenced by a slap, the sound resonating around Robert’s bedroom.   
  
“Don’t tell me how to discipline my son. Get out. Never come back,” Jack roars, his hands curling into fists. Will glances at Robert once, his eyes full of apologies as he turns on his heel and walks out of Robert’s life. It hurts more than his father’s - Jack’s- fists.   
  
Robert still thinks about the kiss, about the mark that Will left on his body later that night. His finger traces over the forest green smudge dancing across his hand as tears fall down his cheeks. His body aches with pain, bruises blossoming up amongst the coloured marks, pushing through the cracks. But the bruises are symbols of hate and indifference, not of love. He’s alone again, rejected by his father, wrong, a disappointment. And it hurts. **_  
_ **   
The only thing that hurts more is when he overhears his father talking in hushed whispers to Andy later that night, about keeping things buried, keeping secrets.   
  
“But I killed her, Dad,” Andy whimpers, his eyes filling with tears.   
  
Robert feels the rage, white-hot, wash over him. Andy killed their mum - no, his _mum_ , Victoria’s mum - and from that day, Andy is no longer his brother, but a murderer. He leaves for Spain the next day, taking only a suitcase stuffed with clothes, a photograph of his mum and Victoria and the bruises that still blossom over his skin.  


* * *

  
**_Donna + Katie  
  
_ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** He finds his way back to Emmerdale a few months later, hardened and with a new agenda - to destroy Andy and everything he holds dear. The mark left on his palm has faded slightly during his time in Spain, no longer the blazing bright red that it used to be.   
  
Katie is everything to Andy. They’re childhood sweethearts, the typical quintessential teenage star-crossed lovers that fills the pages of romance novels. Her mark is pastel yellow, it suits her, sunny, bright, warm - she represents everything that Robert had ripped away from him. It curls over Andy's collarbone, near his heart, brighter than any other mark. It’s then that Robert knows she is the key, the person that could break his brother.   
  
It isn’t easy. Andy is as hardened as he has become, his brother is like steel, titanium. He feels like a stranger. He taunts Robert about his lack of lovers, about the fact he’s sixteen and he’s still not slept with a woman.   
  
“Are ya gay or something, Robert?”   
  
The words sting more than Robert cares to admit and if he thinks about Will when he’s pushing Nicola into the sheets of her bed, he doesn’t say anything. He slinks home later that evening, the lovebite still stark against his collarbone with a smug expression on his face.   
  
Donna is the polar opposite of Nicola. She is sweet, kind, beautiful but there’s a fire that burns deep inside her. He’s known her for a long time, ever since they were kids. They never seemed to get along, between punches and joyriding and angry parents, their bond was always one of distance and tolerance. But Donna looks at him with interest, her eyes sweeping over his body, and it’s easy to use her to take away the loneliness. Her mark finds its way onto his collarbone, almost identical to Katie’s mark on Andy. But whilst Katie’s pastel yellow is bright against his brothers skin, Donna’s orange-red mark, fiery and feisty just like her, is faded and diluted. He tells her it doesn’t matter to him, ignores the fact that his own mark is muted against her pale skin and presses him into the sheets, their lips sealing together. It’s easy to pretend that this is what he needs, that the fact their marks are so weak means nothing. Donna is safe and stable, she is normality and the life that Robert should want to live.   
  
But he doesn’t. He craves excitement. Elaine gives him that at first, a rush of forbidden desire - wrong wrong wrong, his brain tells him as he kisses her - but he doesn’t listen, ignores the fact that she doesn’t leave a mark on him - not the coloured swirls he’s used to, but purple, blue, green bruises that blossom over his skin when the car they’re in hits the wall. He remembers the blood dripping down her forehead. He should have got help but his fingers are numb against the keypad of his phone. It’s easier to walk away, to pretend that this mess isn’t his. The lies slip from his tongue easily - her fault, her fault - until the memories hit her two months later and she leaves the village. He doesn’t miss her.   
  
Donna takes him back after everything. Her arms wrap around his neck and he pulls her close, her fruity perfume teasing his nostrils. She’s supposed to be everything, supposed to be the one who makes his heart flutter and he does love her. But she’s not _enough_ . He finds himself craving the excitement, the rush that Elaine used to give him.   
  
Andy’s neglect of Katie, his attention firmly on the farm and on Daz, is the spark he needs to light the fire. They meet in the barn, her hand curls around his wrist and he feels the warmth of a new mark brush over his skin. The light pastel yellow is bright against his skin, brighter than Donna’s. He feels a pang of guilt at the mark, at the ring on Katie’s finger, his hand moving to brush against her cheek but she pulls away, eyes hard like chips of ice.   
  
“Not there,” She says, shaking her head.   
  
He has to settle for her shoulder, a place a future brother-in-law would touch. The bordeaux red blossoms up against her pale skin as their lips finally find one another.   
  
The rush seems to intensify over time - her foot brushing against his ankle under the breakfast table, stolen kisses in the barn, in his bed when Andy is out in the fields. It burns bright, his skin prickling with heat whenever they touch, his heart slamming against his ribcage when she smiles at him. But it’s a dangerous game to play with fire, to sleep with the fiance of your brother, and it all comes crashing down in Robert’s bedroom with Daz’s horrified face staring at them.   
  
He tells Andy. He remembers the shouting, the tears that fell from Andy’s eyes, prepares himself for the beating that never came. Katie manages to pacify Andy - but not for his sake, for the sake of her wedding. She wants the perfect day with the white dress, everything that young girls dream of in their childhood. She disposes of him, of everything they were, like he’s nothing more than a crumpled up piece of paper. He watches her walk up the aisle, standing by Andy’s side in a suit that is a little too big for him. He feels loneliness once more - even Jack has Diane now, the woman who came into his life, who never tried to replace his mum, who tried to understand him even when he pushed her away. She stands next to Jack in her oversized hat, dabbing at her eyes. Robert’s eyes catch the bordeaux red smear visible on Katie’s shoulder, a mark that she was once his, if only for a brief fleeting moment. But Donna and Debbie happen - both wrenching Katie’s fairytale apart. The vows and the ring sparkling on her finger doesn’t stop her from going back to him, slinking back into his sheets as if nothing has happened. The days seem to fall away in snatched kisses, in rumpled sheets, in whimpers of each other’s names. Robert knows it’s wrong - but he knows he’s falling for Katie. She takes away the loneliness, erases the smear of doubt that hangs in his chest. Andy never suspects a thing.   
  
But it can’t last forever. They’re in bed one afternoon, hidden away from prying eyes. Robert’s hand is tracing his mark over her shoulder, their lips brushing against each other. He presses her against the rumpled bedsheets, his hands folding into her soft blonde hair as her tongue runs against the crease of his lip, almost teasing. He doesn’t hear the footsteps but Katie does. She pulls her lips away, eyes narrowing at the open door.   
  
Victoria knows. Katie’s words are sharp and threatening, they draw tears out of the young girl’s eyes. But Robert lets her do it, because he loves her, because he doesn’t want to let her go. If Victoria catches his fingers moving over the lilac mark that belongs to her, she doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t say anything for months, taking her vow of silence seriously. Robert and Katie continue to fall in deeper with one another, the kisses becoming more heated, the feelings becoming harder to hide.   
  
“Lets run away together,” He doesn’t remember where the idea came from, all he knows is that he wants to be with her - the girl who makes him feel like he can take all the world.   
  
Andy crumples when they tell him the truth, what has been going on behind his back. He stares up at them as a broken man, his dreams lying in the dust by his feet. Katie speaks for the pair of them, tells her husband, his brother that they’re in love and that they’re going to be together. Her hand folds into his and they walk away, leaving Andy’s shattered heart lying in pieces on the floor, the wedding photo of them follows, their smiling faces distorted by the glass.   
  
The caravan in the field becomes their home, a place for them to be themselves. They ignore the whispers around the village, the gossip that follows them at every corner - how could he do that to his own brother - Robert’s palm stings every time he thinks about Andy’s tear-filled face but his thoughts switch to the screams of horror from the barn that night. He deserves to feel the pain, as his father deserves to feel the pain of his family ripped in two for protecting the boy that wasn’t even his son.   
  
But Andy doesn’t give up. The gun quivers in his hands as Jack lays on the grass, blood pooling between his fingers. Robert should hate Andy for what he did - his brother tried to kill another parent - but he understands. He pushed Andy to his limit, took away everything that made him happy. They reconcile reluctantly, pushing each other into a back breaking hug, tears pouring down their cheeks. But Jack isn’t so understanding - their father sticks to the cover story but he disowns Andy, throwing them out of the family and out of the farm he called home. Robert tries to focus on Katie, on the happiness he has found and never wants to let go. He proposes and she accepts - the ring standing proudly against her finger, the mark still bright against her shoulder.   
  
But Robert can’t help himself. Sadie happens. She means nothing to him, her touch never rendering a mark against his skin, but she’s danger, she’s untamed fire and he can’t help but be burned. Andy finds out and with that, so does Katie who finds herself comforted by the arms of her ex-husband. The fragile relationship between the two brothers fragments once more but this time, they don’t just hurt themselves, but Max. Max was innocent, he only wanted to leave Emmerdale, leave behind who he was - but he dies alone, as his mum did, with white-hot flames licking at his flesh. Robert tells Jack everything, hopes that his father will protect him from the Kings, as he did with Andy. But Jack doesn’t.   
  
“You get in that car and you clear off. You drive until you’re well away and you don’t come back,” He whispers, his eyes filled with disappointment.   
  
Jack’s mark fades and sinks into Robert’s skin as he drives away from Emmerdale and away from the pain, embracing the loneliness once again.   
  
His memories in the days after that are blurry, as though he’s trying to protect himself from the truth. He sleeps rough, his days filled with alcohol, anything to take away the loneliness. The only thing that burns through with clarity in his time away from Emmerdale is the voicemail he receives from Diane, saying only two words.   
  
“Jack’s dead,”   
  
Robert cries himself to sleep that night, a newly pronounced orphan, cries for Diane, his stepmother who loved him no matter what, and for Victoria, for what they have lost. He returns only to watch Jack - his father’s coffin - lower into the ground, another chapter closing on his life, another person who has left him behind.  


* * *

  
**_Chrissie  
  
_ **   
  
He focuses on making himself the man that his father always wanted to be after that - a son he could be proud of. He works hard, pushing himself up the career ladder, working every extra shift he can, just so he doesn’t miss home. Work fills the void of loneliness deep in his chest and soon after that, so does Chrissie. He meets her at a Christmas work party, some posh do with canapes and champagne flowing, women in cocktail dresses fluttering their eyelashes at him. But she catches his eye. She is beautiful, her gold sequinned dress flutters around her as she sips from her champagne glass.   
  
“Robert Sugden,” He says with a smile curling over his lips.   
  
“Chrissie White,” Her smile is wry, her perfume curls through the air.   
  
They fall into bed that night, the gold sequinned dress glittering in the dim light of the bedroom as it crumples to the floor, as their bodies connect and her hand curls around his wrist, warmth blossoming over his skin. He exhales heavily at the contact - it’s been years since he received a mark, years since anyone meant anything. Chrissie’s mark is gold, bright and shining against his pale skin. It feels like it belongs on him. He looks at the mark later that evening, Chrissie fast asleep next to him. His fingers stroke over the gold smudge curling around his wrist, still glittering in the dim light and it feels like a new beginning.   
  
Chrissie is safe, she is everything he could ever want. They fall into bed together time after time, his hand curling around the zip of her silk dress, dragging it down and away from pale skin. She reminds him of Katie in a way - has fire deep down inside her, underneath the layers of titanium and steel of her armour. But she doesn’t fall for him straight away. He wakes up to rumpled cold sheets, her body long gone, her perfume lightly hanging in the air. The loneliness returns to hit him in the chest and it takes his breath away. But he doesn’t give up. He likes her, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And eventually, he breaks down her walls, makes her realise that he isn’t there just for her money.   
  
But it isn’t easy - his father Lawrence and her sister Rebecca both present stumbling blocks - Lawrence with his narrowed eyes, his inability to trust Robert and Rebecca with her wide blue eyes and her inability to stop falling into bed with him. But Robert holds firm, he clings onto Chrissie, onto the person that she makes him, a person his father would be proud of. He proposes to her in 2013, does everything by the book - obtains Lawrence’s reluctant permission, picks out the ring with the three glittering diamonds, takes her to her favourite restaurant in Paris. He drops to one knee and his shaking hands undo the box in his hands. Her eyes widen at the sight of the ring glinting in the dim light.   
  
“Yes, I’ll marry you,”   
  
Robert begins to think he’s found his happy ending.   
  
But it all falls apart a year later, their happiness shattered by the dark cloud of Emmerdale, of returning to the place that holds a myriad of bad memories and choices. But Chrissie wants Home Farm. She falls in love with the beautiful house and whatever she wants, she gets. Robert can feel the dread settling in his chest the day they move in, as they pass the signpost of the place he’s tried so hard to erase.  


* * *

  
**_Aaron  
  
_ **   
  
He’s heard all about Aaron Livesy. He knows of the mark he left on Victoria’s face, that he was the one who took her virginity and she carries his mark even to his day, blue-black stark against her pale cheekbones. He knows that he’s Chas’s long lost son, remembers a young boy glued to his Gameboy at Andy and Katie’s wedding, face sour as he focused on his game and not on his mother flitting around the bar, trying to keep everyone’s drink topped up.   
  
But the boy Robert knew is long gone, replaced by a man. A man with hardened edges, who wears his hoodies like armour. Aaron isn’t like everybody else, certainly not like that idiot Ross Barton (who honestly thought he could get away with stealing Robert’s prized Audi). He barely knows them, doesn’t want to know them, but he finds himself in their orbit.   
  
“Never rely on the manufacturer’s tracker,” He knows he sounds self-assured, his narrowed blue-green eyes staring down at the two man standing before him. They try to placate him but he holds firm.   
  
“I don’t negotiate with idiots,”   
  
“That’s alright. Negotiate with me then,” The shorter one, _Aaron_ , replies, his blue eyes fixed on Robert.   
  
The thrill, the flame of excitement that Robert thought had long been extinguished bursts back into life. He thought he buried that part of him when he put the ring on Chrissie’s finger, but it’s hard to ignore. Aaron holds a degree of interest - he doesn’t fall at Robert’s feet like everybody else does, doesn’t seem impressed by what he’s achieved - and Robert can’t ignore that.   
  
“I’ll remember that for when I stop being gay then?”   
  
The words ignite something in Robert’s chest, and he knows he should push it away. But he can’t. He tries not to think about Chrissie when he pulls into the layby, calls Victoria and asks if she has a number for Aaron. His heart thumps against his ribcage as Aaron’s truck pulls up in front of his car. His hands tighten on the steering wheel of his car, the sleeve of his leather jacket rides up, the gold mark from Chrissie peeks out from the material, almost taunting.   
  
He doesn’t listen to its silent words. His hand curls around Aaron’s bicep, hoodie soft under his fingers as he pulls the younger man around, their lips connecting. The fire that he buried deep down burns back into life, warmth curling over his lower abdomen and pushing up through his chest. And Aaron responds to his touches, kisses him back with hunger, desire, leaking through every pore.   
  
But Aaron’s fingers brush against the collar of his leather jacket, the familiar warmth of a mark forming flutters over his skin and he stiffens.   
  
“No,”   
  
Aaron looks hurt, confused for a moment but it fades away into anger and indifference, the walls coming back up around him.   
  
“You’re gay,”   
  
And Robert feels his chest tighten at the words, thinks about how disappointed Jack looked when he walked in on him and Will and he pushes Aaron back with his own words, that he means nothing. He goes back to Chrissie that night, kisses her the same way he kissed Aaron, her hand falling over her mark, almost possessive. The sex is good - but it’s not enough. He finds himself thinking about stubble prickling against his smooth skin, about light blue eyes staring at him, chapped lips connecting with his own and the scent of motor oil. The fire burns bright and Chrissie’s touches only intensify the desire.   
  
He follows Aaron to the garage, his mind already made up. Aaron is snarky, his words are full of venom and his eyes are full of frustration. But Robert’s arms close around his shoulders, shoving him back and Aaron stares at him - and the world _shifts_.   
  
It’s different from the times he was with Katie and Elaine. The fire keeps burning inside him, staves off the loneliness, the medial lull of domestic life with Chrissie. They meet in the barn in a clash of lips and fingertip marks on pale skin. Robert’s hand brushes over the mark he’s left on Aaron’s skin, the bordeaux red brighter than he’s ever seen it. Aaron in turn, strokes his hand over the matching mark on Robert’s neck, fingers skim over the blue-black smudge and Robert falls himself falling.   
  
He tells Aaron it’s nothing, they’re nothing, his fingers moving over her mark - the mark that isn’t as bright as the one Aaron left. But Aaron’s _everything_ and Robert doesn’t think of his fiance, his soon-to-be _wife_ , of the ring he placed on her finger when those chapped lips met his own.   
  
“I love you and I think you feel the same,”   
  
It spirals out of control and he can’t stop it - not even when Katie, ever the thorn in his side, looks at him with a smug smile over her phone, the photograph of him and Aaron all the evidence she needs to destroy his life, his relationship, like he destroyed hers all those years ago. He can’t let that happen.   
  
He doesn’t mean to kill her. He just wanted her to stop. But it doesn’t matter what intentions he had, she’s lying in the base of the house with eyes wide open, unmoving, dead. He stares down at her in horror as he thinks about Andy, about Victoria and Diane, about what he’s done and he cries. Wet sobs tear out his throat, like razor blades, as his fingers move over the mark that she left when they were teenagers, when they mattered to one another. He leaves her alone in the house and drives to the church, to where his fiancee is waiting for him.   
  
He marries her. But he makes promises that he can’t keep. He can’t stay away from Aaron - not even when the younger man pushes him away, when he harms himself because it’s easier than harming Robert - but he does in his own way, Robert’s heart breaking at the sight of Aaron standing on the edge of the quarry, guilt dripping from every pore.   
  
“I love you,”   
  
The words don’t have the effect he expected, even though he meant them. He meant every word. He’s in love with Aaron. He asks him to run away with him, he’s tired of pretending. Chrissie knows about the robbery, screams at him through spittle covered lips and petrol soaked hands. He thinks of his mum in that moment, fear gripping his chest at the thought of dying like her. But Chrissie doesn’t light the match, she falls into Cain Dingle’s arms instead. He knows he shouldn’t be upset - he’s betrayed her too, but it hurts more than he cares to admit.   
  
He and Chrissie find their way back to one another, they try to give their marriage another go, neither of them wanting to be alone. Aaron, the man who is in love with him, begs her to see sense and she does. But it comes at a price. He tells Aaron the truth about Katie, that he pushed her, he didn’t mean to kill her - Aaron’s falling apart, unravelling under the guilt that he’s somehow responsible and Robert doesn’t want him to hurt anymore. Aaron lashes out with his fists and with his tongue, spilling everything to Paddy.   
  
He thinks not to think of Katie’s dead eyes when Paddy is buried in the grain pit, when he’s bleeding on the couch of the lodge by Robert’s hand. But Paddy had threatened to expose Robert’s infidelity, to destroy his perfect life and Robert couldn’t let him do that. He had too much to lose. He hates seeing the fear in Aaron’s crystalline blue eyes, the blood smearing down his face.   
  
“Falling in love with you was the biggest mistake I ever made. I love you, I know that the mark you left was the brightest one I’ve ever had-”   
  
“It means nothing,” Aaron sneers back, his words are the only weapons he has left. And he uses them later that evening, when he turns up at Home Farm, bloodied and bruised with the truth spilling from his lips.   
  
“He was with _me_ ,”   
  
Chrissie was already suspicious - Paddy and Katie had seen to that. Her eyes flicker between Robert and Aaron, pausing on the dark blue-black mark that curls over Robert’s skin, almost possessing him. And her expression falls, tears falling before giving way to anger, to screaming out the truth in the Woolpack and wrenching her ring from her finger and giving up the lie of her marriage. She leaves and so does Aaron, the loneliness threatens to choke him.   
  
Andy is angry. Robert remembers the hurt pouring off his brother before his fist slammed against his cheekbone. He tastes warm iron in his mouth and his heart aches as Andy screams out about how Katie was right all along, that she was the only one who saw him for what he truly was. He can’t help but think of Aaron in that moment and wants to disagree with Andy - Aaron is the only one who has seen inside of Robert- both the good and the bad. Andy doesn’t stop there, the one who pays off Ross Barton to put a bullet in his brother. Robert doesn’t remember much of that night, only Chas telling him to stay away from Aaron and then the white-hot pain, the blood smudging against his shirt as he falls against her. He remembers flashes after that, Aaron’s tear-filled face, his warm hands pressing against the wound and then nothing.   
  
He wakes up and they tell him that Aaron did it. His hand moves to stroke over Aaron’s mark as he tries to process the information - it couldn’t have been Aaron, Aaron was supposed to _love_ him wasn’t he? - but they tell him that he had the gun. It had to be him. He finds himself in court, the bullet wound still stings even though it’s been healed for weeks, leaving him with nothing but a scar. Aaron feels like a scar standing in the box in his suit, eyes narrowed and dark. Robert tries to stay quiet but he can’t. He needs answers. He stands up, words like bullets from his mouth as he demands the truth. And he gets it.   
  
“You should have done everyone a favour and stayed dead!” Aaron snarls.   
  
That hurts more than he cares to admit, his hand moving to stroke over Aaron’s mark. He still loves Aaron even though he shouldn’t.   
  
He makes a new statement and Aaron is released. But he’s not thankful for Robert’s selfless actions. He tells him that it’s the last time he messes with his head, that he hates Robert and he wishes that he’d never got involved with him. If the scar over Robert’s heart from the bullet hurts, it’s nothing compared to Aaron’s words.   
  
They try to stay apart but Gordon returns to the village, straight back into Chas’s arms and Robert watches Aaron fall apart. He watches the man he loves rip his skin to shreds, go for runs, lash out at everyone who cares. It’s not until he collapses into Robert’s arms at the scrapyard, a failed attempt to escape with the cut deep on his arm, that things get critical. He tries to brush Robert away, sees the horror on his face at the scars littered his chest. But Robert holds on tighter and everything spills out of Aaron, all the self loathing and hatred and history.     
  
“He raped me,”   
  
Robert feels sick to his stomach as Aaron tells him the story of what happened. He was a kid when it began, when his father began to use him in a way that a parent never should. The tears fall down Aaron’s cheeks and Robert wants nothing more than to comfort him. But he can’t. He has to stay calm and controlled and allow Aaron to tell his story, his fingers twisting into the mark that surely must be Gordon’s, the one covered in raised white scars as though to erase it from his skin. Robert wishes it were that easy. He tells Aaron that he loves him, that it’s not his fault, his fingers tentatively stroking over the mark that he left on Aaron’s skin, still as bright as it ever was. Aaron nods into the touch, tears clinging to his cheeks as he closes his eyes and allows himself to believe.   
  
Aaron tells Chas and then the police. Robert is proud of him. Even when Gordon changes his story and drags Aaron’s kid sister into the entire thing, even when Ryan’s story crumbles against the paper of the case file and Sandra in turn crumbles in court, they get justice for Aaron. Robert stands up in court, his eyes on Aaron.   
  
“He’s the sort of person you want to be, and be with,”   
  
He looks at Aaron and means every word.   
  
Guilty. 18 years. The tears fall down Aaron’s cheeks and Robert looks at him, his hand curling around Aaron’s neck, fingers splaying over the mark. It’s over.   
  
But Aaron struggles. It doesn’t feel over, not when the memories still come back to the forefront of his mind. Justice can’t erase memories or heartache. Robert pulls him in close, his arm warm and protective over Aaron’s shoulders as he talks about letting go of everything, about learning to live with the memories and embracing them as a positive. Aaron’s face is wet, but there’s a smile on his lips. It’s the beginning of the healing process.   
  
It isn’t easy. Liv comes back into their lives, settling herself amongst the debris that Gordon left behind and it’s difficult for Robert to bond with her, to accept her. But he does, chasing after her when she runs from the funeral, tears falling down her cheeks. He doesn’t give up on her, not even when she turns him over to the police, knowing that she’s important to Aaron and therefore, important to him too. They stumble through the next few months - him, Aaron and Liv trying to be a family, to be something.   
  
Aaron asks him to move in. He says he’ll think about it, panic curling around his chest at the thought of messing everything up, messing up the best thing that has ever happened to him. He can see the hurt in Aaron’s eyes as he turns on his heel and leaves. The same hurt that appears in Liv’s eyes when she confronts him, when he tells her he’s scared.   
  
As he turns to leave, unable to face her, she grabs his wrist and he feels warmth curl over the skin, knows what it means. He looks down to see the yellow mark, brighter than the gold one on his other wrist and he _knows_. His hand brushes against her shoulder as he pulls her into a hug and the red blossoms there, strong. It’s like the sign he needs.

Aaron returns a few hours later and his anger melts away when he finds Robert and Liv curled up on the couch at the Woolpack, red and yellow marks bright and strong against their skin. They look comfortable and relaxed, small smiles on their faces. 

“What-” He begins, eyes flickering between them.   
  
“I’m an idiot,” Robert says, as he stands up and smiles gently at Aaron. “And I know exactly what I want now,”   
  
“And what’s that?” Aaron whispers, wanting to know the answer as he moves closer.   
  
“ _Yo_ _u_ ,” Robert replies as he leans in, his hand curling over Aaron’s neck, fingers slotting over the mark that he left there, that still burns brightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk to me on tumblr - lucasdigrassis

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on tumblr - lucasdigrassis


End file.
